Under the Curtain of Rain
by FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Outside, when it does decided to rain it brings nothing but death...except this time. This time it brings something else. AU, Charon/F!LW, Rated M for language, violence, sex and other wasteland terrors.
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: This fic contains attempted non-con. Please be aware of the summary as well.

Disclaimer: Do not own Fallout. Or things would be a little...different.

* * *

If there was one thing he could remember from the past; from when he was still part of order and not chaos, was how his Commander said the only thing more certain that the potential man had for war, was the lust he'd always have for a good woman. Charon hadn't known any good women, or at least, he couldn't recall knowing any. But there was always potential lingering...always...and what he'd just seen in his cracked binoculars may very well have been a good woman – not if the raiders got to her first though.

It'd been awhile since his heart had stuttered so hard or time had seemed so slim. A part of him, even now, knew he'd never have risked his life for a man had he been in the same situation. Old world morals were still ingrained in him: serve your country, follow orders, and protect the weak.

Dust and ruble lifted behind him as he skid down the cliffs slope, forcing a plume of fine yellow clouds. In the distance he saw the woman's rifle discharge – the crack of sound following a short second later. The shot hit too, but raiders – like rabid dogs – followed in packs, and one less wouldn't dissuade them any when there were three more of them, all as uncaring and merciless as the next.

The beating heat of the sun ran hot on his shoulders and hard sun spots blinded his eyes off the dilapidated cars from where the raiders had sprung into action, but if he could do one good thing...then that would mean something. A man, after all (ghoul or not) had to find meaning every now and then, and saving a woman from peril was about as good as it got.

A feral scream punctuated the abyss as a raider threw a fist, missing but throwing the woman into the excited arms of a strung out teenager; riddled with filth crusted wrinkles to rival any weathered man. The young raider cackled, tossed her to the next barrel of disease who flung her to the ground where she scrambled in the dirt like a fearful animal. One of them shot at the ground with tweaked carelessness – the bullet plugging into the dirt over her shoulder like a yellow geyser. Her short sound of fear bounded off the wind as she went rigid in her attempt to get away, staring at the dirty hole the bullet had dug.

Raiders never did anything mercifully...or short. Charon would have plenty of time to sneak up on them in the end...but witnessing torture and the rape no doubt about to unfold didn't sit well with him at all. He stepped carefully around the cluster of mutant sized rocks, keeping quick check on the helpless woman as she was kicked on her back, all of the men laughing as it was done. The ripe smell of burning rubber and stale piss grew the closer Charon crept. Shotgun eased down at his thigh, he watched for opportunity to present itself.

One of the raiders sank to his knees, grinning wide with rotten teeth.

"Think she pissed 'erself?" the one on the ground jested.

"Don't bother me none..." another drawled with speech near bordering on animal sounds, "what? - you afraid of a little smell, ass fucker?"

Two of them laughed hard at the expense of the other, but it didn't seem to bother the other much, in fact it merely made him grin further. "Maybe she'd like a taste of a good ride. Hey, darlin', what say you huh?"

The woman seemed momentarily paralyzed with fear. Charon caught her eyes dart to her fallen gun, half way between him, hidden between two shredded cars, and her. The adrenaline fueled gaze lifted a second from her gun, before returning and immediately finding him squatted across from her in the sun-drenched shadows. For a brief second her eyes widened and then immediately narrowed as if they weren't where they really were – as if they were in a bar, and he'd ordered the last beer, putting it to his lips as she glared at him for enjoying what she surly did not.

"I like the way this broad thinks. Keeps quiet like a good bitch ou'tta..."

Suddenly she rolled on her back; eyes flashing to the raiders, snarling with fists up at her chest in a final act of defiance. A demeaning punch was issued to her stomach, just as she swung to defend herself – her own jab missed by a pathetic amount, leaving her to choke and curl on her side when another kick struck her in the back. Again they kicked and that tight mouth she'd formed opened with a spit covered yelp.

When two out of the three raiders knelt down with plain intent at the girls curled body, Charon felt that surge of adrenaline race up his spine. If there was any time to act it was now. His knees snapped straight, forcing the sun in the cracks of his face as he lifted his shotgun, gave it a rough pump and shot a small explosion of buck into the one standing the closest. Blood dusted the air, and with the sudden distraction and a snarl, he kicked the lonely rifle to it's rightful owner; still curled and only now growing aware of what was happening.

She was an interesting woman, Charon realized.

A toothless raider turned, pulling upon a pistol latched tight in his belt, but Charon merely gave him a heavy smack on the jaw, watching him grunt and slam to the ground in a bloom of dust. He would have done the same to the other bastard, but on the ground by his feet – with a fierce, hateful gleam on her face – was the girl with her rifle in hand, jammed straight into the gut of her victim.

The shot from her rifle rang and Charon's eyes lowered with amusement, pumping his shot gun one more time to nonchalantly put down the last one on the ground – the one that no longer had to worry about that painful broken jaw Charon had given him...

A disgusted sound came from the woman, whose kill landed with a dead smack right beside her; rotten mouth open and crusty eyes wide beside her. He nearly gave a grin when she managed to toss the sod off her before the raider soiled himself.

It was nearly laughable how her reaction resembled a small girl inspecting a dead animal, because that's all they really were in the end...animals.

* * *

"You always like this around women? - or does my swearing bother you?" She queried before popping two mentats in her mouth, chewing them quickly. The calm came on as she let the bitter drug rest on her tongue. Normally it was dangerous when alone, but the ghoul shuffling before her seemed even more capable than herself. There was a sense of safety as odd as that sounded out here.

She watched him look her over with a nearly clinical eye; one steeped with mistrust and the rest reeking of apathy as that sand bruised shotgun rested downward in one of his ghoulified hands. He looked unlike any savior she'd had over the years – though saviors were few and far between, they normally didn't look as unhappy to have saved her as this one did, or for that matter so indifferent. The very fact that he was a behemoth of a ghoul didn't deter her nearly as much as his expression did.

"You don't come across others often do you?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Despite fearing an attack from every direction, it was rare to bump into anyone, especially one that was not only willing to point a gun away from her, but then point it at her enemies.

"No," was all he said before taking a deep inhale; his chest expanding to make him look even larger than before, and then he turned...walking away.

"Don't you want to ask why?" she added with a smile that only could be given when she felt once again alive and less close to death than a moment ago. Endorphins were a thing to be praised indeed.

He kept walking, stopping only to pluck up expended cartridges. "There no 'why's' out here, kid," he groused as if she were a dumbass.

She nearly smirked, but her lower lip cracked dryly in her attempt, forcing a wince between her eyes instead. A lick of the lips didn't even solve it when her mouth felt just as dry. The ghoul tossed up a unspent bullet and cupped it mid-air in a tight, mammoth-sized fist. She didn't have much of an issue with his kind, though the stories she'd heard unnerved her – it was more that, despite his unexpected rescue, she found herself perturbed by his attitude.

Instead of letting him be as her survival instincts suggested, which would be a threat, a good deed always begot a good deed in her book, so she saddled towards him, plucking up a shotgun shell before he did and capping it with a minor tilt to her lips. He looked just as annoyed suddenly.

"Found a map that lead me here. The Brotherhood 'supposedly' have a bunker in the garage stocked with supplies...but the," she swallowed disdainfully, "raiders were using this place as a convenient ambush site."

She had his attention by the look of his fervent eye contact, but that annoyance was still there as he looked at her. For some reason his stare made her feel childish and vaguely ridiculous at her explanation. Though if what she'd heard about ghouls was true, then she was but a child in his eyes no matter if she was twice her age.

"This an offer?" He asked her as if she were pulling some trick on him, and she'd have been lying if the idea of clocking him on the back of the head when he followed her in hadn't crossed her mind. To say his leather armor would have been big on her was an understatement, but better that than the shit she was wearing now, and that gun was nearly as impressive as his stature. Anyone else and she'd have done such a thing, but she wasn't a large as she sometimes thought she was. He'd fuck her day up if she crossed him...

"I'd like to think of it more like a reward," she muttered while squinting as he moved to let the sun in her eyes.

"If I'd done this for the reward you'd have been better off with those raiders raping you."

His callous threat dug like a parasite in her belly, so deep since it was so true. With timing and luck on her side she could have fought off the tweaking raiders, but a sober, huge ghoul proved about as dangerous as a deathclaw she reckoned. If he'd wanted to pluck her up like a child did a treat he would have had little trouble.

"Then let's call it me being grateful?" she tried with – she thought – a hopeful expression.

Silence stretched longer than she thought, her lip curling lightly at his belittling look. She couldn't understand how or why he made her feel so fucking green, but it was ruining her post-survival mood.

"Very well," he said finally, after what felt like a minute.

"Thank god for that...talking to you is like pulling teeth," she mimicked his tone insultingly; smirking soon after she turned around while he growled at her. Despite his mood, falling into a verbal sparring match with him was becoming a rather enjoyable endeavor.

* * *

If he was being honest, he was slightly enthralled that this woman would offer him anything, let alone spoils. He would have been content with a thanks, but she was surprising to say the least. There was that nagging feeling that this was a rouse to catch him off guard; to take what he had and even kill him for it.

He'd agreed for some reason, but that reason didn't seem good enough even while he followed her into the oddly cool market. Bits of dust, and crumbling paint fell from the ceiling gradually, while skinny projectiles of light filtered in from miniscule holes dotting the decaying walls. Immediately he surveyed the area, counted the boarded windows, the three passageways leading into darkness and the many possible weapons. The shelves were mostly barren, but the stray can of vegetables and packaged cereal looked promising enough.

"Keep yourself at a distance, will ya?" she groused, eyeing him cryptically from the counter where she was busy emptying the cash register.

"Same to you, smoothskin," he bit back, putting a hand on the hilt of his combat knife – it was reassuring when her eyes would stray from counting the bills to watch him as he moved to survey the area. Nothing so far looked worth the weight to carry. He'd eat his fill of the canned goods, but he wouldn't bother taking any with him. He'd hunt his food later when the hunger finally crept back on him. Naturally he didn't have to eat often. One big meal every other day and he managed just fine.

"I think I'm safe to assume the goods are in a basement, bunker...whatever. It looks like a cellar key..." she mumbled, singling out an elongated key on a heavy looking wheel of differing keys. There must have been over fifty. The smoothskin got around.

"Lead the way then," he said with the nudge of his head to the back corridors. He wasn't about to trust her at his back.

"You stay back," she ordered, sizing him up again; more hostile than she'd been outside. It seemed the closed quarters made her nervous for some reason, more nervous than others would be. "If I hear you creeping too close-"

"Lead the way," he repeated; not caring about her concern. She had nothing to worry about as long as she kept her hands to herself. He wasn't about to harm a woman he'd just saved, and she was naïve if she thought otherwise.

Down a short crop of stone stairs was indeed a heavy door, and her key worked as she'd said. Musky odor of long rotten meat, mold and tepid water assailed his senses. It was cold as well, making what skin he had left tighten and his muscle twitch. He hated the cold. Alaska had proven to that a dozen times over.

As he checked the area, scrutinized the floor for traps and gave her another cryptic look, she started mumbling, "...should be a safe...a cabinet...where the living hell..." He tuned her out when his foot landed on a reasonably intact magazine – the edges frayed but the cover photo visual. Watching her search the area, he picked it up with one hand still on his gun. A house wife looked back at him, all smiles with white teeth and a bobbed hair cut. 'How to save by shopping savy!' it read. It'd been a long time since he was rudely reminded of the past and honestly, he wasn't sure what to feel at the time-tainted memories. Was this nostalgia? - did he even know about this materialistic world at any time in his life? No, he realized. There was never shopping, a wife or even smiles.

"Found it!"

Charon dropped the magazine – a cloud of dust flying up from it's impact with the filthy ground. The girl was trying to move a heavy looking sheet of wire fencing. Old planks were further covering what he guessed was a gun cabinet.

"Out of the way. I'll do it," he said, still enjoying his freedom to give orders instead of take them. The power was as addictive as a drug, and as she backed away to let him lift the rubble out of the way, he couldn't help but feel a certain wave of euphoria. To be the master of his own actions was better than any feeling he'd experience in life, better even than killing.

"...look easy."

The fence toppled to the floor as did the planks – her small voice even smaller against the sound. "What?" he asked. Her mumbling was unflattering.

"I said you make it look easy..." she seemed to bite with her words, "It's called a fucking compliment. Most people like 'em."

He merely grunted – the compliment as she called it wouldn't soften him to her womanly wiles if that was her goal. Saving her was a moral judgment, and aside from the goods she wished to share with him, he cared little for what ever came out of her mouth.

"Are ghouls always this shitty for company, or do you just like making them all look bad?"

It was a taunt he could tell; one he ignored as she fit him with an odd, appraising look before turning her back to him for the sight of the cabinet. The jingle of her keys echoed near-painfully in the stone basement, but when the lock unlatched and she turned back to him grinning he couldn't help but notice how similar she looked to the woman on that forgotten magazine cover. White teeth, nearly blemish free skin and eyes that didn't look red-worn or doped were only a few of the features he suddenly took note of. The fuller figure she made when she twisted her waist was also uncommon – it may have been before the war that he'd a woman look so...

"The fuck are you looking at?"

He rose his eyes from her figure to a thin frown and narrowed eyes aimed right at him

"Which Vault was it you crawled out of?" He was even more curious of her now. Sure she looked roughened up from life out here, and her demeanor spoke of acclimation to her now found world, but she was the cleanest looking woman he'd had the rarity to see, and all it took was a comparison from the past to notice.

"You're perceptive aren't you?" He couldn't tell if she meant to mock him or not.

"One O' One. Just a half mile from Megaton. Don't think for a second they'd let you or anyone else in for that matter though."

She swung the cabinet open, banging it back with a shivering smack of rusted metal. Her body hid whatever was inside and her silence told him it was either a grand haul of goods or a disappointment. Too long she was quiet and then without warning she gave the inside a rough kick, screaming with a sort of frustration that sounded like it stemmed more from betrayal than deception. Charon knew then that she was a hostile and not a woman eager to share her supposed trophy of supplies. Her eyes told him she was a dangerous woman in this moment.

* * *

Those rat finks had lied to her. They openly told her the supposed coordinates to this place; a place that had just happen to run through cannibal country and a raider hijack post. Near digestion, rad. poisoning, and near rape were all suffered through with a stiff lip because the whole point was to stock up on the mass of supposed armaments. And this! - this is what she was looking at now. One, split-wooded, hunting rifle looking back at her, leaning into a corner as if it also knew what a sorry sight it looked. It didn't even matter that she could at least repair her own gun with it.

Past the red rage she heard the ghoul behind her snort derisively, at least that's what her brain processed. He may have been simply breathing for all her rational mind knew, but that part wasn't thinking now. She was angry...and the nasty thought that she'd been set up crawled like a poison through her veins.

When she turned to glare past her shoulder at the hulking man of rotten flesh, she felt a rush of spite work it's way through her. The remembrance that he'd saved her, and had done so without seeking any reward, pleasure or 'other' was forgotten as he gave her a glare right back.

With the few bullets she had left she wouldn't make it back to Megaton at this rate, and running into trouble was as guaranteed as the sun would be setting in the next few hours. She needed ammo, and the first idea that came across her mind was to take his.

As if he saw that very thought, she flinched as he lifted his shotgun to her; a casual move but not one to be taken lightly.

"You gonna shoot your damsel now?" she spat with fresh rage still building. She'd never been so thoroughly fucked before, and the memory of that scribe and his nasty smile only made her growl like a rabid dog. The only other thing the Brotherhood could expect from her now was a fat man aimed at their training yard.

The ghoul was quiet, only staring with those milky eyes that before would have unnerved her, if anything the constant eye contact was thinning her desire to act out in a stupid manner; a stupid violent manner that would get her no more than a shot of buck in the gut.

With no small sense of reluctance she swallowed the urge to verbally berate him, and cautiously rose both her hands in the universal sign of concordance. Her last mistake in life wouldn't be to fuck with a man of his size, or with a shotgun of that caliber, ghoul or not.

"No threat. I promise..." Inwardly she grimaced at the deflation in her voice. She was acting childish for the first time in years.

"If it's ammo you need, I have rounds for that hunting rifle...to trade only."

Despite his defensive tone and her still ripe ire, she rose an eyebrow at him. His offer surprised her, just as his passiveness after he saved her had at first. This whole time she'd been traversing the wasteland, she'd yet to come across anyone with his certain...moral integrity. It reminded her of the war heroes she read about in the vault, way back when.

"Yeah..." she muttered finally, "that, that would be alright." No one really said thank you out here, since no one did anything that was in need of a thank you, so she almost forgot that's what you did when someone helped you out. She couldn't even remember if she'd said it after he'd ruined those raiders chances for a free fuck and meal.

With his gun still trained in her direction, and her palms still raised, he slung a short, near-empty looking pack off one shoulder where it sank to the ground in a thin and rather sad looking way. A sudden well of gratitude replaced much of the leftover anger as she lowered her hands to her sides, still making sure she appeared the submissive in this situation.

"I don't have much in way to trade...could provide a handful of jet if that's your thing?" If she was lucky he liked the stuff much more than she did, but a stiff, one-shake of his head said otherwise. He still gestured for her to come close while simultaneously lowering his shotgun – a hand going into his pack to fish out the ammo. With care she knelt close enough and watched his shredded looking fingers put differing ammunition into piles.

He seemed to have over a dozen .32 rounds but she shifted uncomfortably, knowing how little she had to trade back. The high after the raiders, the anger after seeing what she'd trekked all this way for – it was all gone and a morose, nearly sheepish mood had taken over her. The mentats earlier must have kept her in check enough that she hadn't done something like attack him, but now they were making her more passive and muted than she normally was. She even thought fleetingly of offering him something more intimate for the ammunition, but she'd never offered such a thing before, and wouldn't even now.

She frowned as he ignored her looks. Something about him reminded her of one of those protectrons from RobCo. Every move he made was oddly synthetic and calculated. Thinking back he'd exhibited the same movements as he was now, but that time she was distracted by highs and lows of serotonin. Now she could think rationally enough. Was he some ghoulish android like Harkness? It seemed counter-productive to make an android appear ghoulified, unless he was to blend in with other ghouls...

She'd known of a place in DC that held a community of ghouls, but the name of the place escaped her since going had never appealed to her before. Then again, DC in general never appealed to her...

"What do you want for them?" she asked suddenly, pushing folly thoughts away for the current dilema at hand. Her own pack, though fuller, contained an assortment of useless things a ghoul of his caliber wouldn't seem to be interested in. Still, she flung it off her shoulders – her rifle tapping to the floor as well in her clumsy haste.

"...shit," she cursed, setting the rifle close before unbuckling her pack.

"Just take them. We won't make this into a problem."

Uncertain as to what he was getting at she didn't respond, merely gave him another searching look like she'd give any unpinned stranger. Everything he did was...unlike anything she'd come to accept about the outside world and it wasn't right. No one did things for nothing.

"Don't play games with me. Just tell me what it is you need..." before she could list off the goods she had she caught his gaze drop for just a moment; a moment so slim she almost thought it'd been a hallucination, but she'd seen it all right. The ghoul had just checked her out...and the normal disgust didn't come as it did when it usually happened – not that it happened much. It was normal routine to appear as much a man as possible at a distance.

An awkward silence followed as he caught her gaze. She saw that he knew she'd known what the look had been, but his expression never wavered from that mask of nothing. She had to admit, he was good at the poker face.

With a silent swallow she pried the opening of her pack open and delved a hand inside "...I've got colas, scrap parts...jet, but you don't want that, smokes, chips..."

"I'll take the cigarettes."

Without thinking she tossed them at him, but with an envious reflex she saw him catch them just above his shoulder – the action smooth and simple looking when she was certain it wouldn't have been if she'd done it.

"...I can pay you in caps if that's wh-"

"I don't use them. Traders avoid ghouls if you're not aware by now. These will be fine, smoothskin."

A pack of smokes for forty caps worth of ammunition seemed more akin to robbery than a trade, but she wouldn't complain, not when she'd thought of ways to incapacitate him to grab his shotgun just minutes earlier.

"...Thanks, for everything by the way."

She'd watched him leave then, without even a nod of acknowledgment and she'd gone on her way as well. Live another day to fight for another one tomorrow, she thought with a grim smile as the large silhouette of him against the evening sun faded. Maybe there was a few good souls out here after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Radiation rain had proved to make him more groggy than it had energetic. It'd been a decades since the last time he'd felt it on his face, and he'd known standing in it more than a hour was perhaps a bit frivolous for him. The calm warmth had eventually lead to lethargic euphoria. Nothing remotely pleasurable had touched his senses in over an endless fifty years, but it wasn't smart to have stayed outside so long.

A house, perched on a sloping hill of dying but resilient grass stood in the canopy of brown rain. A nearly buried cemetery grew noticeable the closer he got, and a stake shooting for the sky – a thing he was certain had once been a cross – perched on the top of the roof. A church.

He licked at the rain running down his mouth and smirked darkly at the idea of finding solace in the monument of Christendom. Keeping eyes scanning for animals turned crazed by the rain, he surveyed the yard for mines. The exterior was in good shape. A foundation made of brick covered in rotten wood proved why it had survived so long.

A squirrel bounded from a hole under the step way as he approached; skirting across his boots with erratic panic before fading into the distance of more incoming rain. The haze to the east proved there was more storm to come. Unlike rain before the war, this stuff wasn't going to nourish a damn thing...

With shot gun steady at the hip, a finger on the trigger and a shake of his head to clear the growing fog at the front of his brain, he entered as silently as a man his size could afford. Even before his condition was brought upon him, both before the war and after, he'd always been commended for his ability to go unnoticed. A commander had referred to him as a snake – no matter how big, they struck from seemingly nowhere.

Charon realized that silence wasn't going to be a problem. A heavy, sharp ring of fire ignited in both his ears – the force of displaced air caressing the side of his neck as a bullet missed by no more than an inch.

It was a trap.

The rope he triggered was laying at his shoulder from the trim of the door and in the darkness lay a rigged rifle with one shot.

A flutter of foot steps on the second floor caught his attention, and just as the shrouded figure reached the banister, a gun lifted at him against a shoulder, he had done the same. He was at a disadvantage though, even a well placed shot would pepper the stranger...not kill as a bullet from whatever long ranged gun was aimed down at him.

"Turn around. Walk out and shut the door behind you." Lo and behold he knew that voice and the recent, burdening memory of the girl crept back up as if he'd turned his back on her just yesterday. Against better judgment he lowered his shotgun enough that she'd have had time to shoot him before he'd even be able to aim at her.

"Rain might kill you, but I 'will' if you don't get the fuck out!" That calm, almost gentle tone had turned threatening, but he wasn't intimidated, whether from the radiation or her in general he wasn't certain.

"Nice to see you too, kid."

The silhouette wavered a second before tensing back into 'shoot first' position. She may not remember him from his voice alone – it had been said ghouls sounded alike in most respects. But something told him she knew exactly who he was.

"Was that you that's been following me then? Figured you'd corner me in when the rain came in?"

A distant, scratchy chuckle rode up his throat. It didn't even sound like him when it came out of his mouth, but something about the coincidence, the situation and her hostile reaction was amusing. Her dark figure – surrounded by gray rods of light peeking through a boarded up window – wavered once more before the gun was hoisted and a slur came out of her mouth.

Aside from being insulted he lowered his gun to the floor and kicked the door behind him with one heavy foot. The darkness swallowed up what little light the open door had let in, and within a few seconds a green block of light lit up to his right.

"Coincidence then?" she asked as he watched her descend the curved stairs. The pip-boy – he now realized – was new. He'd have remembered seeing that when he'd first saw her.

Only when she was close enough to expose his face with the green hue did he nod, dropping the grin as she frowned. There was still streaks of rain on her face and her clothes were stuck to her; clothes that were meant to be worn under armor and not seen by anyone else out here. A man he was after all, and looking at her was hard to avoid. It was just a glimpse of an old wet top and faded blue shorts, all cotton and all still very damp. Stuffed between a round hip and those shorts was, however, a little .32 pistol. Her gun may have been holstered over a shoulder, but one quick reach and she could have shot him even before he had a mind to attack her.

"I wouldn't have thought ghouls would mind being out in the rain. But..." she gave him an amusing smirk,"...maybe you guys get colds too, huh?"

"The last thing a ghoul wants is to turn feral. Overexposure to radiation can do that," he said, avoiding the real reason which was more embarrassing than it was anything else. Pleasure wasn't something he knew how to ignore – it wasn't like pain and it wasn't...normal. The effects of it was something he didn't need, alone or otherwise.

"So that's where those things come from..." she didn't seem to be asking as much as she was musing about the realization, so he kept quiet and slowly – making sure she saw him – pulled out a light. A flick and orange light bobbed between them, more flattering than the green.

She stared up at him, an odd and saturated look on her face. The barest of smiles curled her lips and he had to admit she was beautiful, even smelling of wet dog as she did.

A heavy breath expanded her chest, but his gaze stayed glued to her face as she let out a shaky sigh, "There's a fire in the back room, follow me." And he obeyed while trying to light a wet cigarette.

* * *

Her skin felt itchy around him she realized, at first she thought it was the radiation, but the first thing she'd done – like any sensible human being – was tap into a vein and subject herself to the burn and nausea of a radaway packet. They weren't pleasant, but the headaches and shakes from too much radiation had proved once that she never wanted to feel like that again and it'd taken her a long while to sprint for this place.

There was still the matter of who the hell it was that had been following her, and if it really had been him or not, but unless he was some sadistic stalker – an idea that didn't hold much merit – then it was just a strange coincidence he was here.

"So...out of curiosity..." she turned to look at him staring, emotionless, down at her, "...your not feeling like eating me are you? I mean...since you were out in the rain and all..."

He grunted, but the light from the the red ember tip of his smoke showed a small twitch to the corner of his mouth. She smirked herself, shrugging her shoulders.

He started a fire from the wood planks she'd broke herself a few minutes before he set off her trap. It would have been a shame if it'd gotten him she realized, feeling comfortable with the unexpected company he gave just by his presence. The ghoul had saved her after all. He was the closet thing to a friend she had out here – the realization almost upset her.

"I'll go reset the trap," he said in that low gravel-like voice before leaving her to bring the fire up to a blaze. He was submerged in darkness again and the fire that started crackling was the only sound. Its heat grew and with a sigh she sat down in her wet clothes, poking the charring wood with another skinny shard. What sun had been hidden behind the rain clouds was almost gone by the time he arrived, and the cold was seeping into her bones even with the fire helping to dry and warm her.

A snap in the other room signaled he'd rearmed her trap, and as expected he returned; a pack, fuller than it'd been when she'd last saw it, gripped in hand.

"Wouldn't be too hopeful to assume you've got some food in there?" she asked with a forced air of ease. In truth she was still rattled by the radiation and the rain. Books had told her about precipitation, but she couldn't enjoy like she'd thought she would have when it was just a fantasy. Out here everything was dangerous, even the rain that she'd so craved to see – it was just like the sun. She could still remember how it'd blinded her eyes and burned her skin before she realized how not-so-magical it really was.

Instead of saying anything she watched him dig out three cans of goods. In the fire light she read them: pineapple, pork and beans, and peeled tomatoes.

"What the fuck is a pine apple?"

"A fruit," he said bluntly, taking the can in her hand and stabbing it with a sharp, slim knife. He did it with all the cans; splaying their jagged lids over to expose the innards. The whole while he was as silent as if she were alone again.

"I have some cakes if you're interested..." she trailed off and watched as he shoved the can of beans and pork besides the fire, following soon with the tomatoes, "...could be like a real meal for once, dessert included." She rested her chin in a hand, pressing her thighs to her chest and giving him a quick look. His gaze was in the fire and he didn't say anything. He was avoiding her actually she realized, which in truth was fine. She didn't care for him to stare while she'd hung up her armor to dry over the sputtering radiator behind them; blowing cold air that smelt of mildew.

Above them the rain poured hard on the roof, but it's old stone held steady enough against the onslaught.

She was about to ask him about the pine apples again but something loud, unearthly and heart pounding, exploded all around them. Confounded with a sudden, terrible fear she bolted up, scrambled along the floor for her gun and whipped it around on shaky knees...all the while she started to noticed how the ghoul was as calm and still as he'd been before the noise, looking at her with eyes narrowed and amused.

"What the fuck..." she whispered – the fear still upon her and confusion as to why he wasn't moving turned to anger, "Why are you just standing there?! - we need to-"

"It's thunder. It's normal with the rain..." and that was all he said before shoving the cans of food out of the fire with the tip of his boot.

Her heart pounded as it'd never done before; so hard she felt like gagging, but his calm exterior and second amused look said he wasn't lying – it was normal...it had to be. Only when her heart slowed did she rest her gun back down, and take a deep, shallow breath. This world still had surprises, even after she'd thought she'd seen it all. The whole thought had been naïve, but it was times like this she realized she wasn't as hardened as she wished she was.

"The food is ready."

She heard him talk, but a burning embarrassment kept her from acknowledging him yet. The times he'd seen her she'd made a point to making sure nothing showcased how ignorant she truly was. Perhaps book smart, but smart to this world even after the years living in it she wasn't. She just had to wallow in her own shame for a moment and then she'd be fine...

"Vault Dwellers aren't known to last as long as you have, smoothskin. Being scared proves you're smart. It's the wrongly self-confident and fearless that get themselves killed. Don't be ashamed."

She still couldn't meet his eyes, but she crawled back beside him, crossing her legs as he pulled out a spoon and a fork missing one tooth. It was wrong, but she was glad they'd run into each other again as the tension slowly left her body. The heat, the – albeit rancid – smell of the food, and his words gave her a sense of comfort she could still recall feeling in the vault.

"You said you had cakes?" he asked in a tone almost hopeful, and finally she smirked.

"You're damn right I did. Never even opened," a grin stretched her lips as she leaned back to pull out the box.

They ate in a quiet, peaceful heat. She felt dry and full by the time they were done, and she even tried the sour yellow triangles of pine apple. It tingled on her tongue, but she decided they were good for the fabled fruit she'd heard about.

She watched the strange display of the ghoul eating one of the half sticky, half stale cakes. It was amusing to say the lease, but she kept the look off her face as she ate her own. All the while the rain turned directions, waned and then pelted the church harder.

"So...does the rain normally last long?"

"After the bombs, rains would come every few years. They could last days or hours."

"Surely the rain shouldn't hold so much radiation. I mean...two centuries and it should have burned off. It isn't like that stuff doesn't ever get broken down. Nothing lasts forever..."

"You'd be surprised," was all he said.

* * *

Despite her character the first time he'd met her, she seemed more or less relaxed in his presence now. Even after the bolt of thunder sent her halfway across the room she laid out a pallet near the fire, staring into it without the usual worry anyone else would have exhibited had there been a seven foot ghoul behind them.

Against the harsh light and shadow and of the fire, he could see the indent of her spine through the opening between shirt and shorts. She was thinner than the last time, but the hips were just as full. He stared; part in curiosity and part in appreciation. Reassuring himself he wasn't leering he let his eyes roam while taking to both his elbows with a grunt. The warmth was good with the wet rain still trying to dry between his skin and the leather. If he'd been alone he'd have taken it off, but with her acting much less the cautious adversary he didn't want to ruin what ever comfortable atmosphere had developed. Finding anyone that wouldn't put a gun to his face was worth sparing them the sight of his tattered remains.

"So, what do I call you?"

Charon paused in his leisurely mapping of her back to watch the back of her head as it curled further into her mat. This was an opportunity to reclaim his old name...

When he didn't answer her, he watched her roll to look back at him; eyes filled with a yellow light from the fire behind her. Her expression was darkened, but he looked regardless.

"Charon." He wasn't yet ready to remember anything before the bombs. Not yet. For now he was who he was, minus the contract. First and foremost, he was a killer, a survivor and a ghoul and the name they'd used for him was fine then, and it would be fine now.

"Sounds like an old name..." she mused, rolling back over to face the flames.

"It is."

She must have fallen asleep minutes after that. Her breathing was shallow and even; each rise and fall of her ribs he could count to the next inhale perfectly. The radiation had wired him up, and though his body was worn and heavy, his mind was sharp and more than awake. Sleep wouldn't come easy...

The rain fell like it was molten. Faint sounds of hissing lay in the background of the heavy patting storm. Just thinking about the heady, buzzing sensation of the radiation filled him with a calm, almost high feeling. It had felt good, better than anything had in a long while...good enough to effect his body in a way that was both a relief and a burden at the same time. The last time he'd had an erection might have been over two decades ago. The one earlier was both a blessing and a curse.

Again his eyes fell to the girl and her partially exposed back. The skin showing was smooth and clean looking. The rain must have washed away most of the dirt. She'd looked filthier the last time, though perhaps his newly awakened desires were to blame for making her look more appealing than she was.

The endless thinking, and musing must have put him into an unexpected sleep, because suddenly he was outside and there was no rain, though he could hear it plain as anything else. She was there with him, but where she stood, far enough that he couldn't see her expression, it was raining and lightening. Her body was soaked and the clothes were as thin as paper, and as see-through as glass. He found himself growing closer, though his legs weren't moving. She was standing still, unabashed at her near-naked body and when he touched her she burned him.

His hand was on fire when she said his name.

"Charon."

For so long his employers had mispronounced his name as another long standing joke, but she said it as it was meant to be said and the way she said it...

He felt a hand on his chest and again the touch lit him on fire.

"Charon..."

In an instant he was awake, and the dream was gone. Her hot touch, translucent clothes and the rain draping them both was gone to be replaced by a human and very real touch on his shoulder. There were no thought or memories of where he was or who he was with in that moment as he snatched up the hand, tossing the body belonging to that hand under him on the floor.

A strangled sound came out of her mouth, but he'd already trapped her wrist behind her back and pinned her by the neck; his hips digging into her thighs.

"...get off me!" she growled fearfully through his grip around her neck.

Immediately he was off her, on his knees looking down as she scrambled to get out from under him. A nasty look adorned her face and with a hand on her neck she groaned in discomfort. There wasn't any way to react but badly...so he growled in a mimic of her but with all the torn timbre of his ruined throat, "Why would you put your hands on me, smoothskin?"

He must not have sounded threatening enough, for she merely gave him an almost pained, mocking laugh before rubbing at a spot on her chest, "You talk in your fucking sleep...thought you were asking me a question but you kept asking it and wouldn't shut up..."

There was a suspicious gleam in her eye then as he stared blankly at her, still feeling her body heat scorched where he'd touched. His body was betraying him as it had in his youth...and she had more than likely felt it.

A shit-eating grin told him she knew something, and that something he probably didn't want her to have known...

"So...ghouls work in 'that' way after all, huh? Everyone told me it fell off after...well...you know," she sounded less mocking and more curious, but the mockery and the grin was still there all the same. It made him vaguely sick to be dealing with not only something he'd thought he'd been rid of, but also the embarrassment that came with anyone being aware of it at all.

"Don't get cocky, kid. The radiation in the rain effects us ghouls differently."

"Oh, I can tell that...hard to miss that..." a short, nearly nervous chuckle left her mouth as she looked off to the side, avoiding his eyes. He'd well and truly fucked up what ever this unhostile truce they had between them...and it was more upsetting than he had thought it'd be.

"You don't have to worry about it," he told her, "or me," he added, unsure if reassuring her was the right idea or not. She had been nearly raped last time he'd seen her. Perhaps it was a concern of hers that a ghoul like him would get ideas while she was more than easy picking here in the church, surrounded by the rain.

"I'm not. I can defend myself..."

Charon stared her down, knowing the tone he'd heard but trying his best to ignore it. He also, with a bite to his inner cheek, ignored the searching look she gave him...and the way it trailed over his body.

"...you know. If you wanted I wouldn't be opposed to-"

"I wouldn't think about it if I were you, kid," he said with a curt tone and set jaw. Opening up that idea would get him no where and it would get her everywhere she didn't want to be. The very idea was unthinkable and brash, and he'd rather cut that inkling down as quick as he could. Going decades without his dick making it's self noticeable and even longer before he'd entertained a sexual idea being possible, wasn't a good path to accepting flaky offers from smoothskins.

"How the hell do you know what I was talking about?!"

He snorted and got up, grabbing his pack and gun.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

Her stare itched on his chest, but he wasn't going to entertain any more of this. If the issue didn't go away he would take care of it himself in private...up stairs perhaps, which is where he took himself as she demanded he stay.

"Hey!"


	3. Chapter 3

Even when the rain had stopped and a dead silence took hold as the fire died slowly, she sat hunched over crossed legs listening for any noise that the ghoul was still there. She'd not heard the door open, but she also hadn't heard his heavy steps climb up the stairs either. It was like he vanished...and she was too conflicted to go look for him. The last thing she'd intended was for him to storm out as if she'd insulted him. Perhaps he thought she was leading him into a nasty joke...

Regardless the reason it made her feel...very, very unattractive.

The years out of the vault had made quick work of her disdainful youthful plumpness. The body she'd wished for didn't even come with all the walking and starving, instead she felt less comfortable in her body...more like a man than a woman at times. There was never a time to flaunt herself, and when the time did come that she felt confident enough to do so...it was better to hide what little she had. Unless she wanted a job like that whore in Megaton it was always better to act as much a man as possible.

A ghoul turning her down before she could even wrap her mind around what her mouth was saying was a low blow. Seeking him out just felt like something she'd have done in the vault when Freddy called her names. Did she want more of the same treatment? - No. She fucking didn't.

Once more she felt like a child – the second time in less than six hours.

"Better to just keep my mouth shut...fucking beautiful," she grumbled with no small amount of useless venom. Who wanted to fuck one of those walking corpses anyways? Sure, he didn't smell like Gob had, more like leather and oil than the greasy, sour smell from the enslaved bartender. Charon didn't even look all that terrible...but – feeling slightly ignorant – she wondered if she could catch something from being intimate with a ghoul. A disease or...worse, become a ghoul herself.

As the fire was snubbed out by her gentle, wooden pokes, she realized she didn't need it that bad. And he was just another man after all. None of them men out here had appealed to her yet...not that the ones in the Vault had been anything to brag about. Being turned down by him meant nothing to her...

After twenty four minutes the rain started back up again, beginning with a soft patting sound before growing deafening. When another heavy clap of thunder shook the foundation she was ready for it. Only a small rash of goosebumps rose on her arms and legs, aside from that she held her ground; teeth clenched tight. A harmless noise wasn't going to scare her, not when there were worse things to fear.

Sleep didn't come even when she willed it. The darkness didn't help since the cold crept in, and the fire was too bright even behind her closed eyes. As much as she didn't want to admit it, being turned down by a ghoul was insulting...and the more she thought about it the more she wished he'd just let her finish her offer.

Thinking about fucking him wasn't so bad, even when she pictured exactly how bad it could be. Considering how tall he was, it would have been a shame if his dick didn't actually work. Up close he was a bit ghastly, but he had all his teeth and that was more than most the people she'd met could rival.

"What a waste..." she grumbled; lying on her belly with her chin on her bent arm, fiddling with the clasp of her pack idly.

Would he be squishy? - or would he be jagged and rough like a scab? Thinking about it made her scrunch her nose. People didn't go around fucking ghouls for a reason, right? But what little she'd known about ghouls had turned out to be wrong...so...

"Kid."

She whipped her head around, seeing the sex-object in question with a electric lantern in one hand and a stern frown set on his face. He took up the whole archway and then some judging by the hunch of his neck into his shoulders.

"What?" she snapped; already turned on her back with her elbows dug into her pallet. The previous ideas inhabiting her mind vanished as she tried her hardest to be disgusted by him. He looked like the walking dead. A zombie from Grognak the Barbarian. Rotten...scarred...huge...but ugly...and...

There was the sound of his heavy inhale and a phlegmy exhale before he cleared his throat, "I'd appreciate it if you'd forgive me for..." he seemed at a lost for the right words despite how more relaxed he appeared.

"For being a rude bastard? Sure, I forgive you. Not sure what I was thinking anyhow," she started, thinking at first to be casual about the whole thing, but then he narrowed his eyes at her and she felt spiteful once more, "I mean, really. Even if you guys still had working dicks I doubt you'd have many tak-"

"I am not half a man, smoothskin," he bit so hard she felt her tongue go dead in her mouth.

Those milk-glazed eyes held anything but lifelessness in that moment. She swallowed down another comment, knowing better while her gun was a good two feet away from reach.

She watched him take a long step into the room – the sound of his boots made her stomach clench unpleasantly.

"If I had a mind to I could rape you, kill you and eat you like those raiders had intended," he spoke with little inflection and it made her feel vaguely sick just thinking about it, "but I have no desire to do any of that. You keep running that fucking mouth though, and you might make one of those ideas tempting..."

Between her ribs, her heart thudded hard and her mouth watered enough that she swallowed again almost audibly. She felt scolded, and never before had she wanted to berate anyone so terribly...and yet not. Instead of saying anything she normally would, like insult him, belittle him or even vomit any number of curses, she said something else...but something no less stupid.

"If my voice made you want to fuck me you could have just said so...no need to bring up the raping."

His off-blue eyes narrowed immediately, and for a second the gap between his lips let her know he was at least mistily shocked by her statement – it was replaced by a sneer quickly enough though. No one could say a ghouls eyes weren't expressive, not anymore at least, and not to her. She stared into his eyes as a myriad of emotions filtered towards her: confusion, insult, rage, interest, lust, and then disgust was what she was left with. Suddenly her skin started to itch once more.

"Go to sleep, kid. All I want from you is the fire," it sounded like a conviction, not a reassurance for her or for him even, but she kept her mouth shut this time. For once she knew better. But that didn't stop her from staring at him all the while as he flicked and stoked the fire back up, breaking the skeleton of an old dresser for more fuel in the corner.

Splinters cracked over his thigh, creating wrist sized logs of wood with apparent ease. The display of strength enamored her now as sure as it had disturbed her before. It reminded her of when he'd lifted that clutter from the gun cabinet the first time she'd met him.

She eyed him again, almost wearily as he sat himself down a good ways away from her, but close enough that the fire highlighted the full front of him.

How long had he lived? - and would continue on living? Radiation couldn't kill him. Mutants avoided ghouls too, she remembered that much. Everything about him was mutated to keep him alive in this new, hostile world. In some way, she envied his ghoulish abilities...though walking around looking like a corpse didn't sound all too pleasant...

Despite ignoring her own appreciation of him and convincing herself how disgusting he really was – to her distaste – she felt arousal coil in between her thighs. Her body betrayed her, and the thought of excusing herself to take care of the problem herself was mulling around in her head more and more with each minute of silence.

Something inside her wished she'd catch him looking as she gave him sideways glances, but he never seemed to look away from the fire.

As time crept on by, and the rain continued to fall as the cold threatened to tear through the warmth brought on by the fire, her ability to hold her own tongue began to vanish, "You prefer men then," she muttered, "Is that it?"

There was silence and as it drug on she accepted that he might have decided ignoring her was his best option. But she stared regardless; skin itching and insides growing heated. Color her a ghoul lover, cause in that moment she would have let him fuck her if he had half a mind to...which, unfortunatly, he didn't seem to in even the slightest sense.

Just when she was about to sigh, sneer and fall back on her pallet, he turned his eyes to her.

She couldn't say what it was in his stare, but it made her feel small...

"Since I'm a ghoul, you think I'd jump at the chance to fuck you if I wanted it? Is that how your sniveling vault boys acted around you?" Each question made her innards clench.

"Did they smell you like a bitch in heat and bend you over like one?"

She didn't know what he was comparing her to, but the insult in his voice was enough for her rage to flow. He sneered and she rose to her knees with her fists bunched in the hem of her shorts – a deep desire to beat him bubbled up within the pool of her hurt pride. Even if she'd taken a nightly mentat it wouldn't have done any good to calm her down now.

"I was only as-" she started; voice shaking as the last shred of her common sense held her back.

"You were only trying to insult me as I insulted you? - by declining your offer," he snorted at her, "Did that wound your pride a bit too much?" he didn't move an inch at her violent body language. He didn't even seem any less calm than he had been this whole time. Something about that pissed her off way more than his words did. She wasn't a threat to him. He knew it and she knew it.

"Like I said, kid. The radiation was the culprit, not you. Don't look any further into it..."

* * *

It wasn't the last thing he expected from her, but when she growled and lunged towards him, he was surprised she'd actually forgo logic and attack him with just her small hands and dull teeth. He could strangle her with one hand if he'd wished it, or punch her hard enough to kill her...one hit and she'd be down. Knowing all of this, and knowing she knew as well, confused him for a split second before he reacted just before one of her small fists connected with his cheekbone.

He felt the bones in her wrists clack together, noting she was frailer than he'd assumed, before a swift punch cut up under his chin from her other tight fist. It stunned him, but he caught the next jab in his palm with ease enough that she gave a growl of annoyance.

"You out of your mind, hmph?" he asked with nasty humor dripping in his voice.

She jerked in his grip, but he held tight, glaring at her. Her body whipped back and forth, twisted and pulled and still he held on, only feeling the slightest burn in his arms as he pulled her in closer, until her fists were risen just above his shoulders at his head. With a lazy motion he bent one leg, pushing a knee against her stomach as he yanked her in just an inch closer. Her huff of indignation landed against his chin, smelling of something sweet and sour...

She was trapped and with a bare smirk he let her think the worst for a little while longer. Feeling her thudding heart beat against his knee was exhilarating. The look of barely masked fear, mixed with misplaced rage and bruised pride on her face was addictive. This was the second, maybe third time she'd shown a hot streak. The girl was quick to anger, or perhaps she reacted poorly to embarrassing situations, no matter how small.

"What did you think you were gonna do, smoothskin? Beat me?" he questioned tauntingly. Charon was enjoying this, he realized, as she bared her teeth and gave another yank, which only served to push his knee further under her diaphragm. A gasp of breath proved he'd hit the right spot to shut her up completely. A series of short breaths satisfied him...

With his own terrifying teeth bared he forced her backwards, by knee and arms, flat on her back where she curled on one side and gave a weak cough.

What ever it was that pulled the switch he wasn't sure – whether it was the way her shorts had rid up the crease of her ass, or how weak she looked and how powerful and in control he felt, he couldn't be sure. But suddenly his body reacted to it all. That sweet smell of her breath, the softness of her wrists, the sight of her barely clad body and that addicting rush of power.

"Fuck..." he hissed, scrambling to his knees, leaving his morals behind him when she began to rise.

"Back off!" she instructed with a shrill bark, stretching an arm out between them that he smacked out of the way as easily as he would a weaken and rotten barricade. He was stronger than her...he could do anything he wanted to her. If he wanted to he could rape her, kill her, eat her...all he had to do was do it. But he wasn't going to kill her, nor would he eat her...maybe taste her...maybe rape her...no she'd asked for this. He'd fuck her.

Her hair was still damp mess of stringy curls, but it was so soft in between his fingers and when he pulled the strands into a tight fist she squealed. A tight stab of pleasure ran down his gut at the sound. Charon didn't even pause, despite knowing how wrong it was to get off on how utterly, and completely at his mercy she was. A small part of his mind said he was acting no better than those raiders he'd saved her from.

"Stop! Stop! Sto-!" grabbing the back of her neck and giving it a good squeezed strangled her into momentary silence before her choked cries of 'stop' began anew, albeit softer yet no less desperate.

One tight hand on her neck, pressing the side of her face down in the padding of her pallet, he took the lip of her shorts in hand and jerked them down her thighs. The mantra of 'stops' ceased immediately and were replaced by her heavy breathing. Each rough exhale was stamped with a tiny moan. Whether it was in fear or anticipation he didn't care any longer. She was getting what she'd asked for now.

"Are you starving, kid?" he uttered down beside her exposed ear, feeling the heat of her naked lower half seep through his leather like an intrusion. She didn't answer, but he didn't expect one anyhow...or want one even. "I'm gonna feed you...right now."

She gave no response.

"Say no..."

"No..." it was barely a word, more like the coo of a dying animal and like a monster he groaned at the effect the noise had on him. She had no one to blame but herself for what came next.

He freed himself from his pants in less time it took for him to pull her shorts down. Just his own touch seared him deep enough to growl. Expelling himself in the darkness earlier didn't seem to do a damn thing for his sanity. And she'd somehow known it...

Her constant fucking jabs and insults. This was her doing and her fault.

The fog in his mind was so thick he barely realized he was thrusting a finger inside her until she gasped and squirmed against his knuckles. Dripping and hot, he drew the slickness over his cock; teeth clenching and hand giving her neck another squeeze. He stared at her exposed rear...rationalizing what he was about to do as his cock pulsed in his hand.

This was wrong...

"Just do it..." she said, as if he were hesitating too long with a knife at her belly. Yet, he was indeed hesitating. In another moment, as quickly as he'd decided to fuck her, he realized he couldn't. Not like this. Like a spell broken, he eased his grip upon her neck before pulling away from her...leaving her on her hands and knees with inner thighs shimmering wet in the fires light.

Looking away he pulled his stiffness back behind tight leathers and a strapped buckle. A well of nausea swam up the back of his throat but he swallowed it down. Being without control for so long, he was already trying to rationalize why he'd have such a strong urge to dominate her...hurt her.

"Are you kidding me..." he barely heard her say. She was on her rear, shimmying out of her shorts with those heavy breaths still invading the silence. "Fucking. Kidding. Me..."

He glared, sinking down to sit on his heels as a defeated and wholly confused feeling swam over him. She was insane...or maybe he was...

While she lifted that useless little shirt over her head he stared, feeling his tongue swell in his mouth. She crawled to him, over him and let that infuriating mouth slant against his own; tongue sliding over his cracked lip before breaching inside to stroke his own tongue. She had him, as he'd had her earlier, but she didn't have to use physical force, this was something else. Charon felt drugged.

"You're a ghoul..." she drawled against his mouth, as if reminding him, but the declaration didn't stop her from pushing her weight against him, forcing him back on the ground. "...radiation my ass..." and then one of her hands was unlatching and yanking open his pants with a fervor that made his hands finally move. Charon grabbed her naked rear, squeezed a hip and pulled on the tip of a breast. Her flesh was pliable in areas and toned in others; soft and firm but every inch of skin was smooth no matter how many scars he felt. A fever struck him, and it was as if he'd been doing this just yesterday. Everything he'd known about women came back while she moaned under his hands.

Her nipple hardened in his mouth when he bent to lap it up. Her moans sent him into a growling fit, with hands scratching up her spine to pull her shoulders back; urging her healthy breasts up for his attack of teeth, tongue and lips.

Each roll and toss of her hips grazed him through his pants, and once he felt the pressure around his cock lesson, and the cool yet heated air touch him, her hands were there to reapplying that suffocating pressure tenfold. Squeezing and rousing him regardless of his uneven texture.

Another moan broke from her throat as he bite a breast, dragging his tongue over the delicate slope to taste the bend of her neck – but she hiked herself up, taking her neck from his mouth so her hips could roll up and over his arching flesh. With an eager, animistic desire he drew her rear in both hands, grabbing wide hips.

"Charon..." she moaned. He paused a moment, rumbleing as his head swam in it's lustful state,"...you fucking liar." How she managed to taunt him, with a huffing grin, he couldn't fathom. But the sound of her breathy chuckle made him snarl. With the muscles in his abdomen quivering and her moisture soaking him, he yanked her down, bearing into herin the same instant.

He ignored the nearly comical yelp she gave.

The scorching heat inside of her, the tightness he hadn't expected and the silky touch struck him half dumb; dumb enough that he couldn't do much but tip his head back and groan as she shivered and eased up an inch to sink back down on him. Weak rolls of her hips made his thighs melt and his fingers go numb as they dug deep into the flesh under them.

"Now who's under whose control...mnnh?" a coy smile, broken but beautiful gaze down at him mockingly, "- is it you? Yeah...the big...bad...uuh!"

He gave a growl and drew her hips back and forth over his lap, pulling and pushing and thrusting upwards with each pull, shutting her up while increasing the feeling. She was a stubborn woman...couldn't even get her way without mouthing off. Maybe he should have fucked that, he wondered as a particular thrust made her squeeze around his girth, then decided this might have been worth her taunts.

"I'll fuck you 'till you can't speak for once..." he warned her, his voice more broken than usual even to his own hearing.

A half moan, half laugh was his answer. Her hands went to his chest, fumbling with the zipper at his jacket; an annoying grin plastered on her face, "I think I'm the one that's doing the fucking," to prove that point he felt her hips buck faster in his lap, his flesh dragging inside her with greater friction.

He hissed and held in a curse, not wanting to boost her fucking ego any more than it was.

Her slim fingers darted under his exposed shirt – pocked with bullet holes and worn edges – touching naked muscle and rough skin. "Not so bad...just-" she moaned and shook deliciously above him, "just like your cock..." He didn't know if she was referring to his skin or what, but her motions picked up and a sudden erratic tempo came over her. He wanted more of it, but he wasn't going to be fucked, he was going to fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

Screw everything anyone had said about ghouls – it was erased from her memory. Every second she grew more enamored by him. The jagged, hard yet slick and soft drag of his flesh inside her own – the rough pawing and kisses and bites that drew her in and out of nervousness that he'd take a chunk out of her like the stories she'd heard.

The control was addictive as well. Maybe in a gun fight she'd stand a change. She was always quick and a good aim came natural to her since she was a child, but the battle between strength would always land in his favor. Right now though, she had him on the ground, grunting and growling with each churn of her hips and drag of her nails down his chest. She had him under control and at this rate she'd come soon.

Knowing her orgasm was so close, so soon made her almost high with excitement. She hadn't ever felt so good with someone else before...and it'd been years since she'd done anything like this.

The wet sounds between them, his throaty groans and her own perverse moans almost muted another crack of thunder. Only a slight shiver ran through her at the sound, and her hips never paused. Another dopey grin broke out on her face as his ragged hands ran up her rear to scratch a line of welts down her back.

It was primal, violent and she loved it.

"Jesus Christ!" she swore as the dim approach of her orgasm started, "...I'm gonna come...fuck..." she sounded shocked, but she wasn't or was she? She couldn't even think properly...

And then, just as her back was arching and the rush was coming, those rough hands that had been leaving her moaning and wiggling like a damn whore, gripped her so tight she couldn't move. For a second she struggled against his hold before a desperate whine tore from her throat, "What...? - let...go...fucking hell."

She hadn't even looked at his face since...she'd uncovered his chest. He looked as faded as her, as drugged and desperate, but there was something else in that look and she jerked once, twice in his grip before grabbing fist fulls of his jacket to shake him.

Suddenly she was on her side – flipped in an instant and the next she felt her pallet under her back and his cock sink in deeper. Her fingers still curled around his lapels, she felt him hook his thumbs behind her knees and press her thighs to her chest.

A stab of fear made her swallow as all that amazing control left her...

"Now who's under whose control, smoothskin?" her own words repeated back to her wasn't as mocking as she feared.

He smirked and suddenly the fear melted as did the kindle of anger, replaced by a single word, "You."

The rumble in his chest and the sudden, violent thrust of his hips said he liked her answer, and she couldn't help but love his reaction. She was so close, it didn't matter that he'd taken the control from her. All she wanted was to come around him.

Charon was more ruthless than she had been, though it was he that had the ability to stab her over and over again; buck his hips back and forth as hard as he liked with her knees squashed against her breasts. It felt like he was too deep most times, but it didn't matter – the sharp smacking of his hips against her rear was too good and the pleasure bordering on pain too dangerous.

She was getting fucked now. So royally fucked she couldn't say half the filthy things she wanted to, just moan, swear and scream knowing that no one could hear her but him.

Her orgasm, when it finally struck her, was savage. It felt like her body had opened up and he was fucking the life out of her. Too tight, too hot and yet she greedily wanted more. A sweat broke out over her body and suddenly everything was slick and overpowering and she was reaching for him between her pinned thighs and the wide berth of his arms. She caught his shoulders , but even her hands were damp. Then, as if her touch said something her dry throat couldn't, he dropped her knees and they fell open immediately to embrace his hips.

Against her tender nub of flesh she could feel the dry but slicked strip of worn skin above his cock – it was once more too much as she jerked to push him away; whining.

"No," she heard him bark, but it all felt too intense and still she bucked in his grasp and struggled against his arms as they secured her against him, pushing their hips even closer. "No..." again he growled, this time right against her ear. The hot breath made her shiver as the pleasure grew less painful as he drew shallow but quick thrusts against her.

"You like getting fucked by a ghoul...don't you?" he sneered, teeth running along the slope of her ear. She moaned as another climax started to show itself with the interchange of his thrusts to rough rolls of his hips, "Say it!"

A rash of humiliation stained her cheeks and without thinking she turned her head from him and sucked in her lower lip. Only a deep breath signaled her second orgasm and a strangled hiss. It was less powerful than the first, but better as it trailed off softly without that painful intensity.

"Say it..." he asked this time, followed by a groan. He grabbed a thigh and spread her open wider, starting a relentless rhythm, breathing hotly down her neck. Her body was being jolted with each buck and thrust and with a hiss she latched on around his neck, pushing her lips to a expanse of muscle. It felt waxy, but the disgust never crept up. With a moan she licked at it and tasted salt and a tang of copper, just like his mouth.

"I like..." she grunted and swallowed, "...getting fucked by...you."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as he assaulted her, going hard enough to bring tears to her eyes – and then he stiffened, rumbled in a mixture of pain and bliss with strong, savoring thrusts. A wet heat flooded inside her, bringing a haze of pleasure as he came inside her. God, it was so fucking good she realized, with no thought of the consequences.

"Fuckk..." he cursed shakily, quivering above her as his hips churned in a lazy motion.

Slowly the sound of the rain reached her ears as the ringing subsided.

* * *

Bliss. Charon relished the word in his mind as his body did the meaning. It was a heat, and fire and a burn in his gut that flooded through the rest of him; down his thighs to his toes in his boots and gripping the muscles in his arms until it hit his fingers which curled deep into the meat of her thighs.

It felt amazing.

"Fuck," he muttered again, dipping his head as his neck went lax, into her sweaty shoulder. She smelt of perspiration, with a tang of radiation and the now unmistakable sweetness of a woman. The pandoras box had opened and he inhaled deeply with his heart still racing, knowing he'd rather face her humoring wrath than remove himself from her anytime soon. He wanted to savor this a little longer. Whatever urge had come over her – over them – may never happen again...

"Can't," he heard her gasp, "...can't say that wasn't worth my bullshit...right?" A soft, breathless giggle, more girlish than he'd expect to hear from her, rumbled underneath him.

A grin broke over his face before he could contain it. With a nip under her ear that got him a quiet moan, he growled, "Barely."

She chuckled again; a hand skimming between them to touch where they were joined. The back of her knuckles brushed his abdomen and his hips bucked involuntarily against her, feeling another jolt of pleasure curl in his gut.

"Guess you'll want to get off me then, in that case."

Charon grumbled, pressing deeper inside her, making sure she sucked in a breath before he pulled himself from her. Half hard, his cock rested against her thigh as he propped himself above her. Her face looked flushed and the dip of flesh under her eyes looked wet, but a content smile curled the corner of her lips. He couldn't recall being so enraptured by anything or anyone before.

"What?" she asked with a slight edge of worry in her tone. They shared a silent moment of searching eye contact before he felt the side of his own mouth lift in a smirk.

"Did I make you cry, smoothskin?"

Her lips puckered and her eyes narrowed, huffing at him with what he could only assume was mock indignation. She didn't answer him, but he had to snort with amusement when she pushed him off to fall on his side, rolling away from him. "You're intolerable," she muttered, more to herself than him he figured. "...but fucking worth the pain..." she hushed to herself. He smirked.

On his side he watched her, not bothering to put himself back in his pants nor lower his shirt. In fact, he sighed with ease, as he shucked off his jacket, enjoying the air as it hit his bare arms and cooled through to his half bare back. The girl wouldn't care to see more of him after she had his fluids inside her...the very idea made his cock twitch and sure enough when he gazed at her – riffling through her pack on her belly – he could see the stickiness between her thighs. It made him growl low – a primal feeling making his chest puff out with each great breath.

Nothing he did ever made him feel less a man, despite his appearance, but this – the raw energy in his nerves and the red marks visible on her skin – made him feel more a red-blooded man than he had in over a century. For now the consequences mattered little.

Her small cry of victory pulled his attention from the curve of her rear to her wide grin.

"Want one?" she asked, twirling a bent cigarette between her thumb and forefinger. "I don't usually smoke, but...fuck, I've got a reason now."

"They'll kill you, kid," he murmured, but tilted his chin in eager acceptance She tossed a half-crumpled pack at him, which he caught with the slightest fumble. His mind still felt stuffed with cotton. He lit his smoke, inhaling a deep lungful as she wore the tip of hers between lips, watching him. Out the corner of his eye he gave her an appraising look. With her eyes slanted, hair tousled and face peeking over a shoulder on her belly, she looked like a pinup girl from before the war.

They fell into a comfortable silence. She never lit up, but it never struck him as odd, neither did her longing look as he smoked on his back. The rush of nicotine accentuating the warmth and glow of his post-orgasm endorphines and the welcomed ache of his muscles. Only when he stubbed out the end of his cigarette, crushing it between two fingers, did he break the silence.

She was still staring at him when he turned to her.

"You wanna tell me your name," he began, "or do you like the anonymity?" If she did he could relate to that sentiment, but he'd fucked her...and she'd fucked him...and he wanted a name before the rain stopped for good.

A sad smile crept over her lips; her brows dipping in the middle. Suddenly she looked young, too young.

"Guess no ones asked in so long I forgot it was common before the war...introductions and all..."

He waited while she composed herself, getting to her knees and crawling closer. Her nearness made a stitch grow in his chest, and a heat kindle anew – it made him count each breath just as he would behind the sights of a rifle.

"Dolores," she said awkwardly, smiling with a twitch, "but my friends had called me Dolly."

Charon would have laughed at her sweet name and her not-so-sweet attitude, but a solemn presence came over her. If he had a friend at any point in his life...he guessed it would be her. His tongue swayed in his mouth before he spoke, "Thanks for the smoke then...Doll."

Saying her name made him feel light – not like old times, since he'd never known the lighter side of life before the war, but it was a comfort all the same. Her smile might have been the culprit, but he didn't care enough to question how he felt.

"You can thank me later."

He rose a brow ridge at her, watching her lean in and kiss him. The urgency wasn't there as it had been before, just a nearly chaste touch of soft lips against his half open mouth. When she pulled back it was only to bury her face into his neck, covering his body with her own until she was lying above him; hands curled loosely besides his face and legs tangled around one of his. Was she...cuddling him? His mind went blank for the first time in his lengthy life.

The bewildering sensations, emotions and aimless internal questions followed him into a sleep filled with her scent and heat...and the soft puffs of her breath against his neck as she too succumbed to slumber

Charon's last thought was how odd it was that she managed to fit so well against him...for such a tiny...crazy...doll...


	5. Epilogue

"Oi!"

A whistle and a hand waved in the air brought a hulking ghoul over to a slight, dust covered woman. "Get that tight ass of yours over here." Despite the demand, the ghoul smirked, hoisting a shotgun half her size over a wide shoulder with an air of defiance regardless his current place at her side.

His smirk dropped as the girl pointed.

There, quivering beside a freshly killed squirrel, looking thin and wet with filth was a small dog. A puppy. The ghoul seemed at odd with a stern face as the girl bounded from one heel to the next in obvious joy.

"What is it?" asked the big ghoul with a dry rasp, looking unimpressed at his companions find.

"It's a cake, sprinkles and all," she returned with a snide glance, "What the fuck does it look like?"

"It looks like a waste of resources and a shitty meal."

Like an old couple they bickered while the pathetic pup watched on with wide, wet eyes, trying to keep its attention on the two while simultaneous chewing on a squirrel leg – the bones crunching under it's tiny teeth. If an animal could seem both confused and terrified – this one did.

"Would have thought someone as sweet as you would jump at the thought of a pet to hold at night," the girl said; sarcasm dripping from her lips. Her arms were crossed tight and as if she wasn't bumping heads with a mass of muscle and tattered skin, she shoved him with a shoulder.

"I already have something to hold at night..." he growled like it was an insult, but the girl just huffed, holding back a smile.

"It's already done. I've looked at it and the fabled beast has won."

The ghoul simply frowned, watching as she picked up the little thing – the dead squirrel still in it's mouth, dangling as the pup tried to eat it while it hung in the girl's arms.

"But," the girl chirped, "since I'm a great gal, you can name him. Definitely a him...gross..."

Behind her the ghoul arched a brow, or what was left of one at her words. Whatever was going through his mind he remained quiet, simply looking at the sight before him, mouth twitching oddly.

"Homeward bound?" she asked, trying to pull the remains of the dogs meal from it's mouth as it growled with no amount of effective terror.

"Home. You're bathing that thing..." the ghoul muttered. She swung to face him, mouth open but a word never came as the ghouls leather clad hand covered it swiftly, his other hand taking the back of her head in a firm grip. "Bathe it, outside. Then you'll join me for one...no more fucking words."

It was clear the girl didn't appreciate the command, but not a single sound left her mouth when his hands withdrew.

"Now let's go."

And with the girl smiling outside of the ghouls view; victory clear on her features, the ghoul wore a similar look. Both of them relished in what they thought was their own victory as the sun started to fall behind them. It was a rare kind of relationship, maybe even appalling to many, but if one could look past the outside trappings, they would see an equally matched pair of opposites, content and happy as they were...together.


End file.
